


Comfort

by ndannais



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-17
Updated: 2015-06-17
Packaged: 2018-04-04 18:58:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4149177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ndannais/pseuds/ndannais
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Illya needs to recover from a bad day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comfort

Illya turned the knob and closed his eyes, sighing as the water began to pound against his chest. He didn't move out of the shower's spray, preferring to stand and let the water run down his head and over his shoulders, the bottom of the spray already bringing relief to the abused muscles surrounding his collar bones.

Minutes later, he turned his back to the spray, breathing in the steam as the water went to work on the muscles of his back. His arms weren't getting the full benefit of the tiny jets of water from this position, but he'd deal with that in a moment, when he could move again. The aches subsided a bit--or at least some of them did, as there were more than he had the energy to count--and he concentrated on the feel of the water. It was a relaxation technique he'd had to use far more often than he'd have liked, but it was a good one nonetheless.

He stepped back until his head was directly under the spray, mentally tracing the drops he could feel pouring down over his head as they ran across his back, down one hip, across his knee, tickling his ankle before they joined the water running down the drain. Each stream took away a little of the pain and a lot of the dirt he'd accumulated in the twelve hours he'd spent hanging from a hook in a Thrush hideout. *Former* Thrush hideout, he reminded himself as he turned to let the water hit his left arm.

"Illya?"

He opened his eyes, but ignored Napoleon's call, unable to find the energy to answer. A moment later, there was a shadow on the other side of the opaque glass, and then Napoleon's face appeared above it. "What?" Illya managed to mumble.

"How are you feeling?"

"Another half an hour in here and I'll be fine."

The words were quiet and slurred, but Napoleon gave him a small smile anyway. The guilt was there in his partner's eyes--unnecessary, as Napoleon had done everything possible to find him. It had not been his fault it had taken so long. Still, the hideout had been right in the heart of the city, and Illya knew he too would have felt that same illogical guilt had the situation been reversed. This was their city; they were supposed to know it. They did know it. It was neither agent's fault that the city grew so fast they could not keep track of everything, however. And therefore there was no reason for the guilt.

And yet there it was.

"Can I do anything to, ah...ease your pain? A massage, maybe?"

The offer was not exactly subtle, and Napoleon's eyes made it even less so. More was being offered than just a massage. Illya nodded, looking for the energy to smile, even just a little, but not finding it. He realized Napoleon was only wearing a robe, which quickly disappeared before he joined Illya in the shower. Illya let himself be turned 45 degrees until his back was once more to the spray. The water fell down over the back of his head again, running across his shoulders until strong hands began rubbing there, diverting the water to run down his arms and chest.

He leaned back, not caring that some of the water now ran down his face. The deep massage felt good; the warm body behind him felt even better. He swayed a little with the motion of Napoleon's hands, and the barest of contact between his own wet skin and his lover's teased him each time he rocked backwards.

Soon he was teased by more than just skin, as Napoleon's erection firmed, only just sliding into the space between Illya's thighs as the rocking motion continued. It was almost hypnotic, and yet not quite enough. He took another step back, moving deliberately against his lover's erection, feeling as well as hearing Napoleon's slight gasp.

Illya sighed, feeling his shoulders and back relax further. Napoleon's skin was slick against his own, blocking the streams of water, but soothing in its own sweet way. Illya rocked, enjoying the lack of friction as they moved so smoothly against each other. He'd make love with Napoleon just about anywhere, but there was definitely something to be said for searching out places with water. The water ran down the front of his body, stopping at his waist where Napoleon's arms now locked around him. He watched it drip from the strong arms of his partner as he pushed back, wanting more than just the tantalizing contact between his balls and Napoleon's erection.

The water fell on his back once more as Napoleon released him, but before Illya could protest, he felt the fabric of a washcloth, smooth with soap, running across his back. Once Illya's entire back side had been thoroughly cleaned, Napoleon pulled the young man to him again, skin gliding against skin again as he washed Illya's chest, the cloth trailing down over Illya's erection, Napoleon's body sliding down Illya's back as he reached to clean knees, shins and feet.

The shower spray returned full force to Illya's body as Napoleon stepped away, letting the soap run off Illya's skin and down the drain. Napoleon gently pushed him forward a few steps, running his soapy fingers down Illya's back to press against him just there, penetrating gently with the ease born of practice.

Illya pushed against the two fingers, wanting the slight burn of muscles there to block out the last of the pain in his shoulders and arms. Moments later, Napoleon was pushing him forward, out of the spray, to lean against the shower, his head pillowed on his arms where they rested on the wall.

Cool air began to mix with the steam, but a second later, the warm water returned, Napoleon having adjusted the shower head. Then Illya felt the water stop again as Napoleon entered him gently, easing himself in until they were pressed together again, skin on skin.

Sensations ran together, the wet skin against him, inside him, surrounding him, mixed with the heat of Napoleon's body behind him, and the water and steam everywhere else. He was only vaguely aware that his arms were sliding down the wall before Napoleon's arms tightened their hold around his waist, supporting him even as Napoleon thrust harder and harder.

Release came far sooner than he would've liked, but only a moment before he heard and felt Napoleon follow him over the edge. Illya sagged against the wall, trusting his partner to keep him from falling as they both caught their breath. Napoleon's arms stayed around him as he heard the knobs being turned and then felt the water stop. He wanted to protest when Napoleon dried him off and picked him up, but his mouth seemed to have formed a pact with his limbs to refuse all orders from his brain.

He let Napoleon place him on the bed and stayed there, eyes closed. He could feel his pulse beating throughout his entire body, a reminder he'd survived another day. He lay there, naked and uncovered, letting the air slowly cool his body and dry the last of the water away. His muscles felt much better, though he suspected he would be sore by morning, but then that was not exactly unusual after a mission.

His pulse had returned to normal places by the time he felt the bed dip beside him. He opened his eyes to find Napoleon, once again wearing his robe, holding a glass of water and an aspirin. He sat up on his own, but took the aspirin without argument and then lay back down again.

"Aren't you cold?" Napoleon asked.

"A little," Illya murmured. "But to do something about it would require moving."

Napoleon laughed. "Here, let me." He pulled the bed covers from underneath Illya and tucked him into the bed before taking off his robe and climbing in as well. Illya curled up against him, letting the warmth of Napoleon's body keep any coldness at bay. He rubbed his cheek against Napoleon's shoulder a few times, marvelling that it was nearly as smooth dry as it had been wet, and then he slept.

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END


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